


Give Me Your Starlight

by violent_ends



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Bloodlust, Bloodplay, Car Sex, Established Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, F/M, Fuckruary 2020 (Lucifer TV), Lucifer is a snacc (literally), Sexual Content, Smut, Vampire Bites, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:37:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22927138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violent_ends/pseuds/violent_ends
Summary: Luciferbelongsto her, a source of light for a being made of darkness, a blazing sun shining exclusively for a monster of the night. He would let her drink and drink and drink, gorge on him and consume him, fill her belly with his very essence and soul, with the dust of the twinkling stars he pinned to the sky.[Vampire Chloe AU]
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 23
Kudos: 218





	Give Me Your Starlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MoanDiary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoanDiary/gifts).
  * Inspired by [I Won't Believe in Death 'Til I Die](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924621) by [MoanDiary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoanDiary/pseuds/MoanDiary). 

> For this story to make sense, the short version of what you need to know is that Chloe has been turned into a vampire and has been in a relationship with Lucifer since his return from Hell, but I strongly advise you to read the amazing story that started the whole VampChloe fic universe. It’s VampChloe's world and we are all living in it.
> 
> For the Fuckruary prompt #27: bloodplay

“Detective, are you okay?”

Chloe startles on the seat and turns to look at Lucifer. Her fingers abruptly stop tapping against the steering wheel, but somehow her leg keeps its maddening, jerky motion below. _Tap tap tap tap._

“No, I'm not," she sighs. “Trixie got caught with one of Maze's knives in her backpack and got suspended. Dan yelled at me for like an hour about it, because of course he did. I was informed that the last case we handled got thrown out in court, and to top it all off, this sleezeball is _not_ showing up", she concludes, emphatically pointing at the store they are keeping an eye on after intercepting a call that at this point might have been a decoy in the first place.

Lucifer regards her for a long moment, lifting his chin as if to have a better look at her, quietly wondering just how angry she is. The movement bares the tendons of his neck, those long and taut lines she dreams of biting into at night (and during the day, who is she kidding). Did he just do it on purpose? He’s such a tease sometimes.

“You seem _very_ tense," is his eventual assessment, and Chloe can’t help but roll her eyes.

“You think?”

A pause. “Is there any way I could… help with that?” Lucifer says quietly, although not shyly. Chloe knows that tone. It’s the one that makes heat pool low in her belly, the one that makes her fangs start to descend from inside her mouth. She licks her lips, feeling their sharpness as they slowly manifest themselves.

Despite the thrill, though, his unspoken suggestion still seems a bit reckless. Her “skin condition" has forced her to have UV-blocking film applied to her car windows, so they’re at least partly hidden from view, but…

“I can’t bite your neck while we're on the clock, Lucifer. With me around it takes forever for you to heal, and we have the whole day ahead of us. Unless you want to wear one of those ridiculous scarves of yours again.”

Lucifer cocks an eyebrow at her. “First of all, _you_ are ridiculous. Secondly: after all this time, you _still_ underestimate me, Detective? Truly, when will you learn to have more faith in me?”

He raises his left arm between them and pushes the fabric of his jacket sleeve up – a true testament to his love and affection for her, because Dad forbid his suits get wrinkled. Then he unbuttons the cufflink at his wrist and starts folding the shirt sleeve up his arm, revealing prominent veins bulging from under pale, gorgeously thin and tight skin. Chloe’s mouth waters.

“This can be covered easily enough," Lucifer explains, almost business-like, as if he isn’t offering himself up like the divine snack that he basically is. “And like you said, the miscreant doesn’t seem to be showing up any time soon. Suit yourself, darling, I just _hate_ to see you so on edge.”

Is Chloe really this easy to read? Sometimes she still feels like an animal around him, moved by primal instincts and desires, her mood improved once her hunger is sated. But oh, she knows it would do wonders. There is nothing better than drinking starlight from its primary source, after all.

“You love it, don’t you?” she still teases him, and herself. “You get off on how much I need it.”

Lucifer’s eyes darken, his wrist still exposed between them. Chloe swallows audibly at the intermittent whiffs of pure divinity coming her way. She glances around to make sure there’s no one nearby, still scared of being seen despite the partial cover provided by the tinted windows. But even if there was, the damage has been done at this point.

“So what if I do?” Lucifer purrs, shifting ever-so-slightly on the seat – getting hard at the mere _thought_ of Chloe sucking his blood, and hell if it doesn’t do it for her.

Without further ado, she grabs his arm and lets her now very prominent fangs sink into his skin, a sigh of pure bliss escaping her lips as she starts to suck. There is always a second, just a split second, in which she can practically _feel_ Lucifer’s inner light try to elude her, fluttering madly in his veins like a bird trapped in its cage, moved by his own survival instinct despite his clear willingness to indulge her.

But then, then it gives way, surrendering itself to her onslaught, and the idea of someone as strong as him letting his defenses down for her is as intoxicating as the smell and taste of his blood. Lucifer has been vulnerable around her for a long time, even before she was changed; but now he lets her hurt him, _asks_ to be hurt again and again, a holy sacrifice laid at her feet.

Warmth fills Chloe in gulps, spreading and pulsing within her as she takes – no, as Lucifer _lets_ her take. Looking at him during the act is almost as fulfilling as the act itself: he groans, his head lolling to the side to gently fall against the headrest, eyes hooded and staring at her almost in worship, half-lidded. His lips are parted, soft but quick breaths pushing their way through, and he is beautiful and hers and fucking _delicious_ and no one, _no one_ can have him like this but her.

She has made sure of it, _keeps_ making sure of it every time someone threatens to step into her territory, sticking their nose where they don’t have any right to.

_Chloe watches and listens proudly as Lucifer plays the piano in the center of the dancefloor, a king entertaining his subjects with a song and the charm of his smile. She keeps to the side, leaning against a wall and sipping absentmindedly at her fruity cocktail, happy and relaxed and so in love with him it’s almost too much to bear._

_Then something catches her attention, a scent that stands out from all the others, the unmistakable smell of someone like her, immortal and constantly hungry. Suddenly on edge, Chloe scans the crowd until she spots them – a him, to be precise, tall and lean and dark-haired, licking his lips and devouring Lucifer with his eyes as he undoubtedly senses the smell of his angelic blood in the air. Chloe has gotten used to it by now, but for someone who doesn’t spend every day with him, she knows it’s almost impossible to resist._

_Lucifer told her once that she’s an unusual… specimen, whereas vampires are usually either solitary weirdos or party-going nymphomaniacs, coming out of their lairs at night to hunt for pleasures of more than one kind. This one seems to fit in the second category, and Chloe doesn’t like it one bit. Because when she’s nearby, Lucifer, whose skin is normally as impenetrable as stone even under the most eager set of teeth, can suddenly be bitten. By anyone._

_She closes the distance between her and the stranger quickly, leaving her drink on a table along the way before stepping right behind the man, the creature. Her arm shoots forward to grab his and twist it behind his back painfully, making him hiss and gasp, although she’s sure he had noticed her too but probably decided to ignore her unless forced to interact._

_“He’s_ mine_,” she growls in the man’s ear, her grip tightening, concealed to other people's eyes by the closeness of their bodies. The vampire turns to look at her with a playful smirk, amused by her seriousness._

_“Is he? Oh, that’s a shame. Can’t we at least share?” he asks, only loud enough for her to hear. “I bet he’d love it. He looks like one of those who beg for it.”_

_Chloe sees red. She buries her free hand in his hair from behind and basically drags him out of the club from the service door, ending up outside in the chilly night air. She shoves her rival toward the opposite wall of the alley, and he stumbles but doesn’t fall, straightening the lines of his shirt almost in outrage._

_“Don’t ever come here again,” Chloe snarls, pointing a threatening finger at him in warning. “Don’t even think of_ looking_ at him again.”_

_The man seems impressed by her show of strength – smart, because he shoud be. “Lucky you,” he sighs, licking his lips longingly as he mourns his missed opportunity. “He must taste_ heavenly_.”_

Chloe sucks harder at the thought, because yes, he does. Her grip around Lucifer's arm turns almost claw-like, her worries flowing out of her to be replaced with youth, life, pleasure, liquid perfection. Lucifer moans obscenely and throws his head back even more at the increased pressure, thrashing and writhing on the seat, and Chloe has to press her legs together at the sight of his neck, so close and enticing, her very own apple in the Garden – one she can pluck whenever she wants, safe from any divine punishment.

Of course, Lucifer notices, surprising her when his free arm reaches down to unbutton and unzip her jeans with renowned skill. Chloe wrenches her lips away from his wrist, gasping as Lucifer basically shoves his hand down her panties.

“Lucifer-" she starts, but she doesn’t know what she intends to complain about once two of his fingers start drawing lazy circles between her folds, spreading slickness and warmth and making her arch up into his touch.

“Keep going," Lucifer rasps, his voice wrecked. “Detect- Chloe, _please_, keep going.”

And who is she to deny him?

Her teeth breach his skin in a different point, sure to leave another set of parallel marks on him, marks she’ll kiss and lick clean to soothe the sting. Lucifer’s fingers slip inside her effortlessly at the exact same time, taking pleasure from her as she’s taking blood from him, pumping steadily as Lucifer’s thumb strokes her clit.

It’s insane how they ended up doing this in her car, _again_; and it’s absurd how two immortal beings like them still lack patience when they have the whole eternity ahead of them to do this. They lock eyes, both completely lost in their lust and desperation, but Chloe isn’t too far gone to not notice Lucifer’s face turning paler and his working hand getting weaker inside her, twitching with the effort.

She stops sucking immediately and reaches out to cup his face, concerned. “Oh, babe,” she tells him in a whisper, “I'm sorry, I didn’t realize-"

“It’s okay," he replies, smiling almost sleepily at her, his hand regaining a bit of strength now that she has stopped. The angle is awkward and Chloe’s pants are in the way and still, still he manages to push deeper, making her keen and whimper and spasm around his fingers.

With the arm she bit, Lucifer reaches out as well and swipes his thumb over one corner of Chloe’s mouth, gathering his own blood from there, she realizes. He slips it past her lips and watches as Chloe sucks at it eagerly, her eyes rolling back into her head at the double sensation of fullness as Lucifer fucks her with his hand.

And then he goes in for the kill, rubbing her clit mercilessly as he leans forward to whisper in her ear, “My darling, I'd let you suck me _dry_.”

Which is the truth, the absolute, undeniable truth, because Lucifer does not lie and because Chloe knows from first-hand experience that she always has to be the one to stop if she doesn’t want him to faint, even when he drives her crazy with his sweet, sweet pleading; when his face is buried between her thighs and her mouth is biting into one of _his_, feeding on rich and decadent arterial blood as he shakily licks her through it; or when she has him tied up to his headboard to rock in his lap and drink from his neck, her hand hooked into his scalp to keep his head back as he moans for her.

It’s true, _it’s all true_, Chloe knows from the times she’s had to pry his lips open to gently pour orange juice down his throat, refilling him with energy after taking too much, her heart squeezing inside her chest as she showered him with chaste kisses and whispered praises (“You did so good, my angel, so, so good"). She can have anything, _anything she desires_, but multiplied a hundred, a thousand, a million times.

Lucifer _belongs_ to her, a source of light for a being made of darkness, a blazing sun shining exclusively for a monster of the night. He would let her drink and drink and drink, gorge on him and consume him, fill her belly with his very essence and soul, with the dust of the twinkling stars he pinned to the sky.

Chloe comes abruptly at the words, moaning around Lucifer’s thumb, helpless at the heartbreaking beauty of his sincerity, at the depth of his reckless devotion. Her hips chase the pressure of his fingers all the way to the end, legs bending as her feet scramble against the floor of the car, and Lucifer doesn’t deny her, drawing every last drop of desire out of her like blood from a small, round bite.

Chloe clutches at his hair as she comes down, kissing the pad of Lucifer’s thumb once he takes it out of her mouth. He lets it trace the contour of her lips, mesmerized, and slowly slips his hand out of her folds, parting from her with one last circling caress at the top, sweet and somehow disarmingly possessive. _Mine_, it feels as if he’s painting on her swollen skin, signing his name there like a brand.

And oh, she is.

Chloe can show devotion, too, when she wants, and he’s earned it. She brings his bloodied wrist to her lips again but just to kiss it, focusing on lavishing him with attention and care, cleaning him of the blood pooling around the four puncture wounds but without allowing herself to get any further pleasure from it. Meanwhile Lucifer sucks his own fingers clean, practically boneless, reduced to a puddle of angelic goo under her touch.

A puddle that, by the looks of it, is still very, very hard.

Chloe pulls off and stares down at his crotch, considering. Jerking him off would be messy, and going down on him would be… tricky, not to mention distracting, forcing her eyes away from the store they are supposed to be watching – well, a war could have broken out in there and they wouldn’t have noticed, but she still likes to pretend she can be at least slightly professional.

“Stop thinking so hard, love,” Lucifer speaks suddenly, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear to have it rejoin the ones confined by her low bun. “I know you can’t get wrinkles anymore, but still. No favor I do to you has strings attached, you know that, and I _refuse_ to have another Armani ruined. I'm sure you'll make it up to me some other time, dear.”

Chloe smiles at the sentiment, looking at him fondly as she zips up her pants once again. “Still,” she says apologetically, “it’s not f-"

Her phone rings from inside her pocket, cutting off her words. Chloe sighs. At least whoever is calling had the decency to let her, uhm, finish.

“Decker,” she snaps once the infernal device is at her ear, glancing at Lucifer with sadness. He is in the process of smoothing down his folded sleeve, and doesn’t seem to notice her gaze on him. His arousal is still very obvious, but Chloe knows he secretly likes to deny himself release sometimes, teasing himself by prolonging the sensation, especially after a bite.

She forces herself to listen to what is being said at the other end of the line, then answers with a stiff “Yeah, we'll be right over," and cuts the call. She puts her phone back in her pocket, frustrated, although the glow of her recent fill of divinity dims the emotion and turns it into light annoyance, something to be easily brushed off.

“Our guy got tipped off and skipped town. We have to go back to the precinct," she informs Lucifer before adding, “This turned out to be such a waste of time.”

“Did it, Detective? Did it really?” Lucifer quips, arching an eyebrow, and she chuckles. Well, fair point.

A thought occurs to her though, and she grins almost mischievously.

“Seems like I'll be able to make it up to you way sooner than I thought,” she tells him as she turns the key in the ignition, heading for the penthouse. She didn’t tell the precinct how long it would take her to get there, after all, and traffic is just _dreadful_ in this City of Angels and demons and so many other, scarier things.

*

Chloe sucks him off on the ride up to the apartment, dropping to her knees after hastily getting rid of the wide hat, sunglasses and gloves she had to wear to get out of the car so they could leave it to the valet to be parked. She looks up at him innocently, a clever deception meant to lure unknowing preys to her, like a predator camouflaging perfectly in the bushes and waiting for the perfect moment to strike and kill.

She is danger now, even more than the Devil himself, but she’ll find no resistance in him whatsoever, no intention to fight her. Lucifer comes ridiculously quickly under her ministrations and at the faintest scrape of fangs against his sensitive flesh, wound up as he is by how deeply she drank from him, but they’re not done, not by a long shot.

He pulls Chloe back up and walks her backwards into the penthouse, making quick work of her clothes as they kiss hungrily, groaning in each other’s mouths. Chloe tries to undress him completely, too, but he doesn’t let her: all he needs is for his trousers to be pooled around his ankles and then he’s taking her against the bookshelves, his jacket gone and his shirt unbuttoned and hanging open at his sides.

He mouths at her throat, pinning her wrists against the shelves, Chloe’s heels digging into the small of his back to press him deeper, harder – she is a wild thing now, her strength matching his own, so he knows she’s only _letting_ him have her as he likes. He fucks her steadily until she’s coming, muffling a whimper in his hair, holding him close as if intent on never letting him go, and Lucifer knows she won’t.

“Do you want to come again?” he asks her as he did the very first time, and exactly like she did back then, Chloe nods, then whispers a wrecked “Please" in his ear. Lucifer is very happy about it, because to give her anything less than three orgasms is unacceptable.

After slipping out of her, he lowers her to the floor and spins her around, one hand in her hair and the other arm around her waist. He walks her along the side of the penthouse, and Chloe is quick to catch up, bending forward to brace herself against the back of the couch and tilting her hips up invitingly, lean and wanton and absolutely bloody perfect. Once inside her again, Lucifer molds himself against her back, stroking between her legs with his left hand as the other holds her by the throat.

Chloe whines, oversensitive, but doesn’t shy away from his touch: on the contrary, she meets his thrusts in counterpoint, one hand hooked in the flesh of his ass to encourage him as the other clutches the back of the couch, probably tearing the leather open in the process. Her nails pierce his skin, he can feel it: a few more marks for her to claim him with, painting him red as if he's a blank canvas she is going to wipe clean only to start over whenever she desires.

A part of Lucifer feels like he should mourn the loss of a delicateness he never got to experience, assuming there would have been any; the loss of her human body before it turned into a marble statue that will never change, just like his own. Yet he can’t really find it in himself to be sad, because no matter what she is, Chloe is his, and now he won’t even have to say goodbye to her, to watch her grow old and leave him for a kingdom he’s forever banned from.

And he meant it, meant everything: he'd let her suck the life out of him, let her crawl under his skin to tear it apart from within if she asked. He's a well she can drown in if she wants, a source that will never run dry. So when Chloe starts to whimper in exasperation, clearly needing a little push to come again, he releases her throat and lets his unbitten wrist hover in front of her face, under her nose.

“Here you go, love," he whispers, letting his other hand trail up from between her legs to cup one of her lovely breasts, kneading it softly. “You’re almost there, come on.”

“I-" Chloe hesitates, always careful, but Lucifer can feel her breath quicken, her walls clenching around him as her nostrils flare. “It’s- it’s too much, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Lucifer reassures her, thinking _Take it, take me, take whatever the bloody hell you want from me, all of me_. His voice is strained as he tries to hold himself back, because he’s close, so close, but he won’t allow himself to come, not before she does again.

This time Chloe bites into his skin tenderly, almost apologetically, her hand leaving his ass to keep his wrist close to her face. She lets out a delicious whine, throat spasming as she drinks, and the pull of her teeth combined with the pulsing tightness around his cock almost make him lose it, tearing a strangled moan out of him.

“_Chloe,_” he groans, and somehow it does the trick: Chloe comes suddenly even as she keeps sucking, her sounds of pleasure muffled against his skin. She clenches so hard around him that Lucifer can’t help but follow, gasping against the back of her neck, his hand now a vice around her breast.

He releases it to caress her quivering belly almost comfortingly, knowing he was rough even though it was what she wanted. He peppers kisses from behind her ear to the side of her jaw, using the arm she just had her fangs in to turn her face toward him and find her lips. Chloe flinches back, giving him a warning look, scared he'll be grossed out by his blood on her tongue. Lucifer captures her mouth regardless, and Chloe hums contentedly against him as he chases the coppery taste of himself down her throat.

When he feels like he can move again, Lucifer eases out of her, pulls his trousers back up and goes to the bathroom to retrieve a washcloth to clean them both. His wrists are red and tender and sensitive, the bites throbbing faintly but persistently, and the constant pulsing ache will keep him half-hard for the rest of the day, squirming in his slacks. He can’t wait.

They get dressed silently and efficiently, shooting furtive glances at each other, grinning like the two sappy idiots they are. When they step back into the elevator, Chloe picks up her ridiculously adorable hat from the floor and places it on her head, and Lucifer feels the sudden urge to thrust his own fist into his chest, wrench his heart out and offer it to her, overwhelmed. Chloe looks at him with a knowing smile, aware of the power she holds over him, but Lucifer has no doubt the feeling is mutual.

Even after her transformation, they couldn’t be more different, but at the same time this is the most similar they’ll ever be.

Both rejects from Heaven and Hell, they’ll slip through the cracks of time and reinvent themselves through the centuries as Lucifer has done so many times before, and he can’t wait to teach her and guide her, for becoming immortal is way different than being born as such. The loss of loved ones will be hard on her, but he will be there to comfort her with body and soul, and hopefully, hopefully she’ll be happy.

Hand in hand, they ride the elevator down together, the expanse of eternity spreading out before them.


End file.
